


Innocence

by SallyLovette



Series: The Iceman [2]
Category: Lackadaisy (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SallyLovette/pseuds/SallyLovette
Summary: “You don’t know what it’s like. I can’t sentence you to that kind of life. Not when there’s still hope for you here.”“There isn’t.”“Why not? What did you do?”“I can’t tell you.”





	1. Interview

“You do realize that’s illegal.” She’s looking at him funny, but that’s always a given, and he smiles at her (another given).

“Well, someone has to do it.”

The room they’re in is small and dimly lit. It’s just the two of them, talking. “Like a regular conversation,” she’d described it, as if that would put him more at ease. And it probably would have, if he could recall one instance of a normal conversation he’s ever had in his life. But she gets points from him for trying. She’s both a choice bit of calico and the first non-threatening face he’s seen since he got here. 

“Why does that someone have to be you?”

“I was their only option. Place has been in a slight pinch since Atlas, ah, assumed room temperature.” He thought it would be easier to say than “died,” but, somehow, it’s worse. His stomach twists.

The woman falters, breaking her orderly persona. “Is this sensitive information?”

“I dunno. Maybe a little.” He sighs; he just doesn’t care anymore. “Does it matter?” 

“That’s what I’m asking you.” 

“Well, not the part about Atlas. Everyone already knows he’s... well...” He trails off. She studies him.

“You checked yourself in, didn’t you?”

He nods. “I’m here by my own volition. But, to be honest, I’m just trying to get discharged.” 

She makes this expression that worries him a little. “Reviewing your case, I’d say that might not be for a while.” 

“Oh.” He thinks for a moment. “Well... forget that stuff, then. What’s gonna help me check out the fastest? I came here to get better, but I do have other work to be getting on with. Lackadaisy still needs me.” 

“Do they really, though?” he hears her say, and his blood runs cold. “They’ve been without you since the Marigold incident.” 

“They need me,” he simply repeats. 

“Sounds to me like you need them more than they need you.” 

“Either way, the sooner I can get back, the better. What are you writing now?” He stands up and approaches the desk, trying to see. “Erase anything that might make them want to shock me.” 

“Please. If they want to shock you, they’ll find an excuse to shock you.” 

“Well, that’s not reassuring at all.” He hesitates and, in one quick swipe, has the clipboard in his hands. She rises as he retreats with it, reading it over. “Hmm... no. They’re gonna keep me locked up forever if you show them this.” 

“Give it back.” She tries to grab it, but he holds it over his head, far above her reach. “Mr. Rickaby! Give me the clipboard now!” 

“Not until you promise to start over.” 

“Are you insane?”

“That’s a silly question.”

“Give it to me before I call security.” 

“What are they gonna do? Lock me up? I’m one step ahead of them.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. This isn’t a place where people come to get better.” 

“This isn’t a madhouse?” 

“No, it is. But they won’t help you. They’ll just keep you here.” Her voice drops, and he can tell by the look in her eyes she’s seen some shit. “Forever.”

He hesitates, then brings the clipboard back down. “Well, maybe you can help me.”

A brief silence in which Rocky holds his breath, then she mutters, “maybe,” and casts him a glance. “I mean. You don’t seem crazy. Not one hundred per cent, at least.” 

“Wow.” He smiles wide. “You’re so nice. For a warden.” 

“I’m an orderly.” 

“I’m a rumrunner.” 

She sighs. “Yeah. So you said.”

 

*

 

The screen door slams as Calvin makes his way across the lawn, his eyes dangerously close to the way they turn when he’s rampaging, restrained by no more than fear. “What are you doing here?”

Mordecai closes the car door and stands admiring Calvin’s house. “What a quaint home.” 

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Freckle, is it? It’d be in your best interests to invite me inside. We have a lot to discuss.” 

“No.” Calvin’s voice rises. “You have to leave now. My mom will be home soon.”

“Still keeping our humble tour de force a secret, are we? Well, then, I suppose if your mother happens to return home before you and I have concluded our little talk, you’ll just have to invent some sort of excuse. I do hope I don’t accidentally let something slip. I can’t imagine what would become of you after your own mother turns you in to the authorities.”

Calvin is stricken silent. Mordecai brushes past him, climbing the porch steps, but pauses at the door. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting.”

Calvin turns, staring at him numbly. Then he climbs the steps and wordlessly opens the door. Mordecai slips inside. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” 

“How did you find out where I live?” 

“It was a simple matter.” Mordecai hangs his hat up and begins to have a look around, though, to his credit, he keeps his hands to himself. “Well. More of a serendipitous matter, really. Your cousin keeps a few of his personal items in that shambolic vehicle he takes everywhere. I was looking for clues at the time.” He falters. “It was difficult for me when he disappeared.”

“So you broke into the garage?” Calvin stands frozen in the threshold. “To search his car?”

Mordecai’s eyes, as cold as marble, meet Calvin’s. “What do you expect? No one would tell me where he went. If I didn’t look for him, I was never going to find him.” 

“You still won’t.” 

“In any case.” Mordecai meanders toward the mantelpiece, glancing at Nina’s statuettes. “I happened to uncover an unmailed letter addressed to you.”

Calvin shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

Mordecai appraises him, disgruntled. “What a vulgar word. I know your cousin didn’t teach you that.” 

“No. He doesn’t swear.” 

“Well, you’re just full of surprises.” He glances into the kitchen, then at Calvin. “May I sit?” 

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

He sighs, his patience waning. “Fine. Just answer one question and I’ll be on my way.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Where’s Rocky?”

Calvin shakes his head, eyes wide with distress. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Yes, you can.” Mordecai nears him slowly. “I know you know.” 

“No, I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do. So just make things easier for both of us and-”

Calvin shoves past him and flees to the kitchen. Sighing, Mordecai follows him. “Your generation is relentlessly stubborn.” 

“Just get out of my house!” 

“I’m not leaving without an answer.” 

“Then make yourself comfortable.”

“If you’re of the opinion that I wouldn’t go so far as to report you to your mother, you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“I don’t care!” 

“You must care.” Mordecai knows for a fact that he does. “You’d be throwing your life away.” 

They stand in silence for a few moments, separated by the kitchen table. Calvin appears to be thinking hard. Mordecai presses him, softening his tone. 

“I don’t want to hurt him,” he says. “I just want to talk to him. Tell me where he is.”

Calvin doesn’t say anything. Mordecai glances at the clock, then steps back. “I’ll be returning. Do try and think over your options. We’re going to get to the bottom of this together.” 

“If you come back, I’ll kill you.” 

“In your own home? You’ll be scrubbing blood out of the wallpaper as a part of your community service- before they give you the chair, that is.” 

“Why can’t you just leave him alone?” It’s a last-ditch attempt to make Mordecai feel guilty, but it’s fruitless, as the ship of his conscience has long since sailed. His final words cement Calvin’s suspicions and destroy any remaining fallacy that Mordecai and Rocky are still on amicable terms.

“Because I’m emotionally invested.”

He takes his hat and leaves. Through the screen door, Calvin watches his car pull away.

His mother comes back from her knitting club less than a minute later.


	2. Miss Pepper

The bell rings as Calvin walks into Lackadaisy. It’s almost empty. He takes his usual booth and soon Ivy is sitting across from him, looking chipper as usual. “Morning, sunshine! How’re you holding up?”

Calvin finds it easy to smile whenever she’s around, and despite the pressing matters on his mind, now is no exception. “Good.” 

“Good.” She leans forward. “You been visiting him?” Calvin shakes his head. “Good,” she says again. “Can’t risk anyone following you there. Me and Viktor haven’t been down since we dropped him off.” 

“How is Viktor?” 

“Surly and Slovakian. Why?"

“I was thinking of asking him a question, but I sort of changed my mind.” 

“Why? What question?”

Calvin sighs, glancing sideways. “Just something about Mordecai.” 

“Well, I can see why you might think so, but Viktor’s not actually an expert in that area.” She flips a hand. “Obviously. They broke up. Y’know they had their first kiss right here at Lackadaisy?” 

“No.” He stares at the table. “I didn’t know that.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I have to stop by Marigold tonight.”

“What? Why?” 

“I have to take care of something.”

“What is it?” She frowns, reaching across to grip his hand, but he slides them quickly into his lap, only upsetting her further. “Hey, what’s going on? You’re not thinking of going back to ghost those creeps for what they did?” 

“No.” 

“Cause I guarantee you you’re gonna lose that fight. Everyone knows Marigold’s icemen are ruthlessly efficient.” Her eyes implore him. “I’ll lose you for sure.” 

“Keep your voice down,” he frets, though there’s no one but old people around to overhear them.

“Can’t you just forget about it? They’re never coming back here. It’s over.” 

“I’m not going to kill them. There’s someone I have to see.” He hesitastes. “Mordecai came by my house this morning.” 

 Her jaw drops. “You’re kidding!” 

“He got my address from Rocky. By accident,” he adds quickly. “It was on an envelope on a letter he never sent.” 

“What did the letter say?” 

“I dunno, I didn’t read it. He never sent it to me.” 

“So Mordecai has it? That’s stealing. It’s yours.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“So you’re going to Marigold just for that? For a letter?” 

“No, the letter doesn’t matter. Look, I just came to tell you where I was going so that in case anything happened to me-” 

“I can come rescue you!” 

“No! No, don’t do that.” He’s appalled. “I just didn’t want to leave you wondering.”

“Well... okay. But it’s just a talk, right? You will come back?” 

“Yes. I’m just telling you in case.” 

“Got it.” She grins. “Be careful. Don’t take any wooden nickels.” 

He smiles. “I won’t.” 

“And thanks for telling me.” Her hair brushes his nose as she pecks his cheek. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

His cheeks flush, and he has trouble meeting her gaze for the rest of the afternoon.

 

*

 

They decide to swing by the garage. Ivy holds Calvin’s hand as they walk. 

“What did he say to you, anyway?” 

“Mordecai?” Calvin doesn’t look at her. “He was worried about Rocky. I have to be careful how much I tell him.” 

Ivy sighs. “Sometimes I feel bad for him. But he’s the one who pretty much stabbed us in the back. Now it seems like he can never stop.” 

“He could stop at any time. He could quit.” 

“Are you serious? They’d put him six feet under.” 

“But he’s their golden boy.” 

“That does them no good if he quits.” 

“No, I mean he could just leave and kill anyone who tries to stop him.” 

“Oh yeah? Where would he go?” They stop in front of the garage. “He’s turned his friends into enemies and his enemies into corpses. Golden boy or no, without Marigold, he’s deader than Atlas May.” 

“Should not say such thing, Dievka.”

A sudden voice causes them to jump out of their skins. Viktor is standing behind them. 

“Viktor.” Ivy touches her heart dramatically. “You scared us. What are you doing?”

He passes them to enter the garage. “Had to lace iron.” 

“You mean iron your shoelaces?” 

“Ya. Is expression.” He seems to almost smile, and Ivy takes curious note of this as she follows him inside.

“You’re in a good mood today, Viktor.” 

“Has been quiet. No rain.” 

“I brought Calvin with me.”

Viktor glances at him before growling an acknowledgement and turning back to his work. He’d been getting used to Calvin slowly, at Ivy’s perserverance. “He may not like you now, but he sure as hell had better learn to,” she’d said, “cause if things turn out my way, you’re not going anywhere.” Calvin goes along with it, but deep down inside, he’s just happy whenever Viktor isn’t tempted to wring his neck. 

“You should have more respect for dead.” Viktor returns to their first subject. “Especially recent dead.” 

“Atlas died over a year ago, Viktor.” 

“Ehh. You are young. Year seem longer to you. To me, just happen.” 

“Oh.” She falters awkwardly. “Well... I’m sorry.” 

“Who is watching cafe?” 

“Oh.” Ivy smiles with guilt. “I locked up early. But just by a few minutes.” 

“Is four thirty.” 

“Four thirty?” Calvin repeats in alarm. “I have to go.” 

“Already?” Ivy is disappointed, of course, but, to Calvin’s surprise, Viktor stops what he’s doing to look straight at him with one deadly eye. 

“What is gun child doing?” 

“Nothing,” Calvin lies blatantly, his shoulders tensing up. “Work.”

Viktor stares at him until he pulls his hand from Ivy’s and flees without another word. Ivy sighs, watching him go. 

“He’s really sweet, you know.” 

“Bah.” Viktor picks up a wrench. “Is just like other one. No self-preservation.” 

“But he’s better at defending himself. And us.” 

“Would not trust my life with that one,” Viktor says as Ivy rolls her eyes, “any more than would trust newborn to make loaf of bread.”

 

*

 

Calvin lies to his mother about where he was and disappears upstairs. He paces a while, too nervous to eat dinner (he lied about that too). For all he knew, Mordecai could come back tonight. He can’t risk it. He has to do something. 

But he can’t leave until his mother falls asleep. So he waits, and, as soon as he’s certain, he picks up his trench coat and hat and sneaks out.


	3. The Godson

The thing Mordecai always admired about Marigold was how efficiently, almost perfectly, it seemed to run. Unfortunately, he only learned later that that was no more than a carefully crafted facade, a house built on truth with an infrastructure of fallacy. Seen from within, it’s just as chaotic as Lackadaisy ever was, if not more. And these nasty surprises just keep coming. Nico and Serafine were one of the first things he learned to hate, but, even before them, there was Asa. 

It is Asa who reduces his plan to shreds. The worst part is, even after the fact, Mordecai can’t figure out how he did it. He can’t justify being surprised- Asa never explains anything and, indeed, seems to derive pleasure from keeping Mordecai in the dark (the less he knows, the funnier)- but, despite how predictable it should have been, he ends up surprised anyway.

It infuriates him.

Calvin has something to do with it. That much he knows, and he wonders if Calvin knows that he knows. If he does, it hardly matters, at least, not anymore. But it nags at him nonetheless. 

When he shows up at Marigold, Mordecai isn’t terribly surprised. But that’s when it all starts. 

“Asa,” Calvin says, ignoring Mordecai as if he’s no more than a decoration on the wall. “I want to talk to you. Please.”

And Mordecai, already confused just from that, stiffens irrepressibly when Asa amicably replies. “Kid. How’s tricks? I haven’t seen you in ages.” He beckons Calvin toward him and Calvin obliges. “You look smart. On a date?” 

“No.” 

“You shy thing. We’ll find you someone.” 

“I have a girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, but I meant, like, someone good. Someone you can bring to my establishment. Not like, ehh, what’s-her-name.” 

“Ivy.” 

“Yeah. Ivy. Tell ‘er I said hey, will you?”

Mordecai watches them out of the corner of his eye. Calvin is leaning on Asa’s big chair, watching him shuffle the deck. 

“Everyone.” Asa addresses the table. “You’ve met Calvin.”

The other players greet him in a lukewarm sort of way, and Calvin waves. “Hi.” 

“Pardon me.” Mordecai makes his voice heard. “You’re acquainted?” 

“Who? Me and shorty? Of course. I knew his old man. We go way back. Right, shiek?” 

“Right.” Calvin smiles feebly. Mordecai narrows his eyes, but he still doesn’t look at him. 

“Asa,” Calvin says. “I just want to talk.” 

“Kinda busy.” 

“It’ll be quick.” 

“That so?” Asa takes a puff of his cigar. “Why don’t you ever come by just to visit?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Y’know, the offer’s still open if you wanna job here.” 

“I... I couldn’t.” Calvin begins to look desperate. “Can we please...?” 

Asa finally relents. “All right. All right. Is it a private matter? We can go to my office.” 

“It’s private,” Calvin says. “Really private.” 

“I getcha.” Asa take his cigar out of his mouth as he stands, addressing Mordecai. “All right, sunshine. Gonna have a word with my godson here. No need to tag along. Okay with you?”

His grin is tyrannical. Mordecai nods once, curtly, as if it couldn’t possibly matter less to him. “Of course.” 

He watches them leave. It’s nothing short of unprecedented. He has to excuse himself from the table and go someplace no one will see or hear him as he repeats it to himself, over and over, until he can almost believe it.

Calvin is Asa’s godson.

 

*

 

Calvin was either mistaken or lying when he said it would be quick. He’s not downstairs for another hour. Mordecai keeps a watchful eye out the whole time, and the instant he reappears, Mordecai blocks his path. 

“What did you do?” 

“Just leave me alone.” 

“Or what?” Mordecai’s eyes are slits. “So Asa is both your relative and my boss. But you can’t tell him about our little problems or he’ll know you’re a gangster.”  

“As if he would report me.” Calvin makes a good point. “He’s one, too.”

“So he’ll order me to leave you alone. Is that it?”

Calvin is silent. 

“I see. How very disappointing. Though I must admit, I never suspected.”

“You threatened to tell my mother.” 

“Alas, you’re right.” He extends a hand. “Well then, I suppose we’ve seen the last of each other. Well played.”

Calvin stares at his hand for a few moments before brushing past him and into the lobby. Mordecai watches, frowning, and, if his eyes don’t deceive him, Calvin is crying. 

 

*

 

Mordecai thinks over a lot of things on the way to Asa’s office. Like how it’s simply impossible for Calvin to have this link to Asa without anyone knowing about it until now. How there had been no trace of it ever existing until now. There are so many holes in the story he can’t put his finger on half of them, but they’re there nonetheless. 

Asa is waiting for him. “There’s my hatchet man.” 

Mordecai pauses outside the office. “May I come in?” 

“Sure, sure.” Asa lights a fresh cigar. “Hey, I got a bone to pick with you.” 

“Have I done something wrong?” 

“Not exactly.” He shakes the match out and takes a long drag. “Just keep your distance from the kid.” 

“Calvin, you mean,” Mordecai clarifies. “Your godson.” 

“Yeah. You understand. He’s family, y’know?” 

Mordecai takes in all of what’s happened that night and suddenly everything’s clear as day. “Yes,” he says. “I understand completely.”

And he does. He really does.


	4. Sneak

“Good night, Viktor. See ya tomorrow.” 

“Good night, Dievka.”

 

*

 

Viktor’s apartment is already unlocked when he reaches it. He knows exactly what this is. Upon entering, his suspicions are confirmed; even in pitch blackness, he can tell someone else is there. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for letting myself in. I didn’t think-”

With a roar that stands Mordecai’s hair on end, Viktor whirls around, making a grab for his throat. He manages to duck his arm, but when he straightens he finds himself cornered, and this time Viktor is successful in seizing him by the neck. He lifts him up and slams him against the wall, rattling the windows and causing plaster to rain from the ceiling. 

“Viktor,” he gasps, struggling to draw breath. “Viktor, stop! It’s me!”

Viktor snarls, reinforcing his grip until Mordecai can do little more than struggle, kicking his legs and clawing Viktor’s arm until it bleeds. 

“Vhy you are here?” 

“Just... want... to talk.” Not only can Mordecai not breathe, but his glasses are askew on his face and he can’t see. He’s helpless. Viktor growls and lets him go. He falls to his knees, gasping and holding his throat. Viktor crosses to the bed and sits down stiffly, legs completely straight because, after all, his knees don’t bend anymore.

“I am not interested to talk vith likes of you.” 

Mordecai coughs and stands up. “Was that really necessary?” 

“You give surprise. Should I velcome you vith open arms?” 

“It’d certainly make for a very pleasant change.” He looks at Viktor, massaging his neck. Viktor looks back at him in that way he always does, like that one eye can see straight through him. It’s not fair. What gives Viktor the right to know him more than he knows himself? 

“Vhere is boy?” 

Mordecai frowns. “What boy?” 

“Gun boy. Ivy friend.” 

“Oh. The McMurray child.” Mordecai sighs and fixes his clothes and glasses  before going to the door to close it. “That’s part of what I’m here to discuss.” 

“He say he make plan to visit you this night.” 

“He did.” Mordecai catches the look on Viktor’s face and rolls his eyes. “No, I didn’t hurt him.” 

“Just making sure.” 

“Something’s wrong,” Mordecai says, getting down to brass tacks, because he can’t stand the way Viktor is looking at him and the sooner he can leave, the better. “It’s Asa. He has something on Calvin. I know it.” 

“Vhat something?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Vhat you mean, are not sure? You not come here just for tell me that.” 

“Tell me where Rocky is.” 

“No.” 

“I just want to talk to him. His cousin may need his help.” 

“He is long gone. You vill not see him again.” 

“Yes, that’s what you all keep saying.” Mordecai begins to pace, mulling over the facts. “He’s not dead. You’d be able to say that much if he was. You’re obviously protecting him. And he’s near. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so stubborn about keeping it a secret.” He approaches Viktor, lowering his voice intensely. “I just need to know where.” 

Viktor studies him. “You look unwell. When was last time you slept?” 

“That’s not important.” 

“Haff never seen you like this before. So emotional. Is unnerving.” 

“Trust me, I hate it just as much as you do.” 

“Vhy not give up, in that case? Vhy is find pancake boy so important to you?” 

Mordecai has no quick retort this time. He hesitates, then sits beside Viktor, shoulders low and swishing his tail. “I don’t know.” 

Silence falls, the only sound coming from the ticking clock. It is then that Mordecai realizes, between working for Marigold and scouring the city for any trace of Rocky, he hasn’t slept in three days. He has to leave before the utter darkness and quiet, and Viktor’s warm, sturdy presence beside him, so welcoming, so familiar, puts him to sleep. 

He stands up. “This place is depressing.” 

“Is not so bad. I get more visitors than I would like.” 

“I know. Miss Pepper will make a fine nurse someday.”

Viktor laughs. “Da. If ever she would study.”

Mordecai is too tired to think of a response. He’s so tired, in fact, that he doesn’t even flinch when Viktor touches his sleeve unexpectedly, doesn’t resist when he pulls him toward the bed, and doesn’t bother taking off any off any his clothes, not even his shoes, as he leans comfortably against his ex-boyfriend and immediately falls asleep.

 

*

 

When Rocky first went missing, it was a dismal, rainy day. Mordecai stood outside the garage watching Viktor climb down from the driver’s side of the truck as Calvin and Ivy climbed down from the passenger’s side. He approached Calvin first, thinking that would be easiest. It’s almost funny remembering it now, but, at the time, that was what he’d thought.

“You,” Calvin said upon seeing him. 

“Good afternoon.” 

Calvin turned away, but Mordecai followed him. “Where’s your cousin? I wish to speak with him.” 

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Well, where is he?” Mordecai frowned. “And why do you look like you’ve been crying?” Calvin ignored him that time and that was when he began to realize something was terribly amiss. He seized Calvin’s arm, pulling him back around to face him. “Calvin.”

Calvin stared at him with his eyes on fire, in the way that never failed to make Mordecai’s arm smart with pain. Then he pulled himself free. “Don’t come back here.” And the warning was implicit, the consequences not needing to be described. Mordecai got it. After a lifetime in this line of work, he got it right away.

That was six days ago.


	5. Polyphemus

Mordecai wakes up three hours later, just as the golden rays of the eight o’clock sun are shimmering onto the bed. He raises himself up slightly from Viktor’s chest, adjusts his glasses, and squints at the clock. His limbs are heavy and his mind is moving at half pace, but he can read the time. 

“Viktor!” 

Viktor is stiff beneath him, eyes closed, asleep as a dog. “Mm.” 

“Viktor, wake up.” Mordecai shakes him, hoping his expression properly communicates how pissed off he is. “How could you let me fall asleep?” 

“You look tired.” Viktor’s voice is a murmur as he resists being woken up. The fur on his face and neck is fluffed up from the bed. Mordecai can only guess he’s much the same way himself. 

“Open your eyes.” He shakes Viktor again, then slaps him smartly in the face. Viktor instantly sits up, snarling, teeth bared.

“'Ey!”

They’re eye to eye and Mordecai folds his arms crossly. “Just how long were you planning on letting me sleep?” 

Viktor glares silently for a moment before growling, “you’re velcome.” 

“For?”

“Needed rest.”  

“Well, thank you, I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead. You do realize they can kill us just for looking at each other?” 

“Bah. Are whining about nothing.” Viktor settles back halfway, gazing at Mordecai in bemusement. “Wake up early make you cranky.” 

“Cranky?” Mordecai repeats, as if he can’t believe he heard properly. _“Cranky?”_

He gets up and storms into the bathroom. The door slams loudly as Viktor stiffly makes his way out of bed. He grimaces; letting Mordecai sleep on top of him like that may have been a mistake. His joints are almost sorer than they were when he got home. 

The bathroom door bangs open again. Mordecai’s formerly disheveled suit is freshly sorted and his fur is restored to its typical perfection. He marches toward Viktor. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Tell me.”

“You just wanted someone to cuddle with and you couldn’t give less of a shit even though you know damn well I shouldn’t be here.” 

“You love cuddle.” 

“I most certainly do not!” 

“Around fifteen minute you start purring.” 

Mordecai turns crimson with mortification. “Well, whose fault is that?” 

Viktor begins the stiff climb to his feet, extending a hand for help, which causes Mordecai to relax just slightly in surprise before he takes it. “Is not so much thing of fault. You enjoy cuddle. I enjoy cuddle. What is problem?” 

“The problem, you lummox—” 

“No name calling.”

“—is that you’re jealous of Rocky, who’s been missing for over a week, in all likelihood due to the fact that you murdered him and hid it so I wouldn’t find out, and then I would come to you for help and then you could emotionally manipulate me—” 

“Such accusations?” Viktor is trying to decide whether to feel amused or hurt, but Mordecai seems to be on a roll and doesn’t so much as notice. 

“—into falling asleep on your chest like a newborn, despite knowing what a bitter letdown you’ve always been as a lover—” He falters momentarily. “I mean, emotionally, not sexually—” 

“Little one.” Viktor tries to cut him off, but it doesn’t work.

“So then I would forget every argument we’ve ever had because even after all this time just the sight of you makes everything else go away and no matter what’s out to get me I know you’ll be here in this depressing little apartment, counting your stitches and thinking of new ways to torment me—“ 

“Little one.” 

“But I’m not going to fall for it.” Mordecai yanks his hand away and brings his accusing fingertip inches away from Viktor’s nose. “Because you’re despicable. If there’s one thing I learned about you after all these years, it’s that. You always said how you thought I was a monster, but I think we can both agree, Polyphemus, cruel destroyer of the one I love, gutless betrayer of your own country, that the real monster between the two of us is y—”

He is cut violently short as Viktor seizes him, and for one tense moment he fears he has gone too far. But Viktor doesn’t hurt him. He just looks at him, eyes gleaming with anger— no, not anger, something else— for a few seconds until suddenly, just like that, they’re embroiled in a kiss so deep it brings them back to those promising days when they were still in love— when Atlas was still alive— when their lives had begun anew and there was still hope for something— though just what it was, neither they nor anyone else ever knew. It’s a feeling so long lost, so coveted, that to stop would be much the same as to give up hope entirely.

So they don’t.

 

*

 

It’s like they’ve gone back in time.

Sure, some things are different. There’s more arguing. Often it’ll stem from Mordecai’s unfounded yet forceful accusations that Viktor is to blame for Rocky’s disappearance, that he should cut the jealous crap and just tell him where he is. As the days turn to weeks, these accusations vary in intensity. One day he’ll think they’re true. The next he won’t. And he’ll speculate aloud, almost as if he thinks, if he happens to guess it right, Viktor will tell him. But he never does. And when late September rolls around, there’s still no sign, not even a trace of Rocky, and Viktor and Mordecai have been systematically arguing, falling out, making up, having sex, rinsing, and repeating for a month and a half.

 

*

 

Toward the end of this period, albeit far away and unbeknownst to them, Calvin is staring at a letter. He can hear his mother moving around downstairs. He pictures her face and its soft features,  the caring expressions he’s used to seeing and the dark, stormy ones he isn’t. Despite all she’s had to put up with from him and his cousin since they were small, Calvin feels they haven’t seen her at her worst. Her worst, he believes, is still waiting, stored away for the day that Rocky crosses the line by taking away the one thing she loves more than anything, something he’s threatened time and again to take, always with good intentions, but never with good outcomes. Oh yes, her worst is yet to come. But neither he nor Rocky will be around to see it. This is what Calvin swears to himself as he tucks the letter into his trousers and sneaks out through the window, despite the fact that not only is his mother still wide awake, but it’s thundering out.

It doesn’t matter.

He walks to St. Mary’s.


	6. Blouse

It takes a whole day to get there. He has no better option. He can’t take Old Lizzie, and he can’t take Mitzi’s car or either one of the trucks because he’s never going back. And there’s no public transportation way out in the country. So he has to walk. By the time he gets there, he’s half frozen to death, thoroughly soaked in the on and off rain that’s been coming down since he stepped out of his house.

It’s no better once he gets inside. There’s so many leaks it’s not the slightest bit drier, and the smell just astounding. He nearly trips over a body with every step, though he suspects not all of them are sleeping. There’s no security at the entrance, nobody at reception, and all of the orderlies he passes in the hall ignore him. He smells booze whenever one passes. Some of them aren’t even bothering to hide their flasks.

It’s easy to find Rocky. All he has to do is follow the singing. The room he winds up in is jam packed with people, some inpatients, some staff, all of them humming along, snapping their fingers, eating, drinking, or watching. The song, perhaps appropriately, is the well-known “St. James Infirmary Blues.”

Calvin stares at him like he’s seen a ghost, and, indeed, that may well be the case. He’s paled several shades and lost more than a few, but when he lays eyes on him he smiles, and that’s when Calvin knows for sure it’s him. He would know that smile anywhere. 

“Freckle!”

They’re in each other’s arms in an instant. Rocky surprises him by kissing his face over and over before pulling back to grin at him, not as close as before, but still in his personal space. Rocky was never great with that. 

“Wow!” He beams. “I missed you, cuz.”

As Rocky plants one last big smooch right on his eyebrow, Calvin asks, wide eyed, “are you okay? This place looks awful.” 

“What, the hospital? It’s a paradise. Haven’t had one bad day since I got here.” 

“Who are they?” Calvin is looking at the others. Rocky follows his gaze.

“My friends. We share the floor.”

“Oh.” 

“Ladies and fellas, this is my cousin, Freckle.”

The room fills with hellos. Calvin turns pink and lowers his eyes. “H-hi.”

Rocky pulls Calvin into the hall, shutting the door so they can speak in relative private.

“You’re soaked through. What’d you do, walk all the way from St. Louie?” Rocky means it as a joke. He has no way of knowing it’s true.

“I came to check you out.” 

“You’re not worried about me, are you? I told you, it’s nice here.” 

“There’s dead people everywhere.” 

“They’re just, uhhh, sleeping.” 

“You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.” 

“That’s not entirely true.”  

“Put your head down.” Calvin seizes his cousin’s ears, almost breaking his neck with how forcefully he tugs them. “There’s no way you don’t have lice.” 

“Ow, ow! Ears! Ears! Calvin, get off!” 

“Hold still!” 

“Get off!”

They scuffle. Rocky pulls Calvin down to the floor and attempts to pin him, but he weighs next to nothing anymore, and Calvin easily shoves him off. Then he climbs on top of him, getting a leg on either side of his waist and trapping his wrists securely. All the squirming he can do is in vain, and eventually, he gives up. They stay like that, panting. Calvin’s never won one of their fights before.

Tears well in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Freckle.” Rocky is startled. “Don’t cry. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. Maybe let me up?” 

Calvin does. “I didn’t come here because I was worried about you.” 

“Oh. So why did you come?” 

Calvin tries to wipe his tears with his sleeves, but his clothes are so completely soaked they’re useless to absorb any more water. “I need your help.” 

Rocky’s heart sinks. “You need my help?”

Calvin nods. 

“With what? Work? How’s Mitzi?” 

“She’s fine. She and Ivy and Viktor and me have been handling the pick-ups between the four of us. But Zib’s gone.” 

“Zib?” Rocky is somehow unsurprised. “He musta cut town.”

“He left his sax.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Something bad definitely happened to him. Mitzi says he probably got arrested.” 

“What does she think happened to me?” 

“She thinks you got iced.” 

They’re silent for a moment as rain drums the roof. “That’s probably for the best,” Rocky mutters finally, and Calvin can see the thoughts beginning to race behind his eyes. 

“What are we gonna do?” He watches his cousin’s face tentatively. “Rocky?”

Rocky hesitates, then stands up, ruffling Calvin’s hair. “Wait here. Don’t move.”

He disappears back into the room. A second later, he’s back. “What exactly do you need my help with?”

Calvin is silent. Rocky waits until he’s sure he doesn’t have an answer before turning away again. “Okay. Wait there.”

Calvin seizes his pant leg. “I’m sorry. I know you’re busy.” 

“Are you kidding? I’m happy to blouse if it means I can help my cuzzo out. Just let me talk to someone on the matter of, ah, checking out.” 

“Will I have to sign anything?”

Rocky grins like it’s funny. “Heh. Uh, no. That is, I doubt it.” 


	7. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kind comments! Here’s the source I used to help me describe the fictitious hospital, St. Mary’s, Rocky’s been staying in. Spoiler alert: it’s not nice there. He’s just lying.
> 
> https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.wbez.org/shows/curious-city/the-story-of-dunning-a-tomb-for-the-living/6d71dc74-bb21-4a25-8980-c2d7a5670b06/amp

Rocky returns with one of the orderlies, a short woman who clings to his arm like he is a lifeline. 

“She’s gonna help us,” Rocky explains. “She has the keys to everything.” 

Calvin stares at her, taking note of the way she’s holding him. “She’s not coming with us, is she?” 

“No, she’s—” 

“Yes, I am.” The woman cuts him off.

“What? But—” 

“You can’t leave me here,” she implores him, seizing handfuls of his clothes. “Please. It’s awful. I can’t stand it anymore. You have to take me with you.”

The cousins exchange glances. It’s clear they have no choice. 

 

*

 

While the woman is retrieving Rocky’s clothes from the storage room, Rocky and Calvin argue in hushed tones. 

“I’m not going back to St. Louis,” Calvin keeps saying, and Rocky can tell by the look on his face that he means it. “I just can’t,” is his only response to any further questioning. “I don’t want to. And even if I did, I couldn’t.” 

“Yeah, but what about your mother? She’s worried sick by now.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” 

“What have you done?” Rocky is both mystified and impressed. “What mess did you get yourself into while I was gone? Jesus Christ, I leave you alone for a few days—” 

“I can’t tell you.” 

“Well, you can’t just run away from home. Where would you even go?”

“To New York,” Calvin says simply. “Ivy told me about it. I can get a job there. You can come with me.” 

“I’m not going to New York with you.” 

“Why not? You used to travel for work all the time.” 

“You don’t understand.” Rocky’s head starts to spin. “You don’t know what it’s like. I can’t sentence you to that kind of life. Not when there’s still hope for you here.” 

“There isn’t.” 

“Why not? What did you do?” He doesn’t voice the most obvious question of all, but it hangs between them, unspoken: what have you done that’s so awful, you would come to me for help? Calvin stares at him with eyes as bright as stars, answering, to his mounting frustration, in the same manner as before.

“I can’t tell you.”

 

*

 

It’s pouring outside. They’re drenched the moment they climb out through the cellar window. The woman clings to Rocky’s arm as he tows Calvin by the wrist. 

“No!” Calvin struggles against him. “You can’t make me!” 

“You’re going home to your mother’s and that’s final.”

The gale is so strong they have to shout to be heard. On the bright side, the rain lashing their faces makes it possible for Rocky to pretend he doesn’t realize his cousin is crying again. When Calvin drops to his knees, however, that’s harder to ignore. 

“Get up!” Rocky pulls himself free from the woman and kneels before his cousin. “Come on! They’ll catch us!” 

“No! I can’t go back!” 

“Just tell me who’s after you,” Rocky tries to reason. “We can figure this out together. Accidental murders are a dime a dozen in this line of work. In all likelihood, whoever you killed, they already forgot about it!” 

Calvin screams over the thunder, “I didn’t kill anyone!” 

“Then what did you do?” Rocky’s hands find his face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Just tell me. I thought you needed my help.” 

For a moment the only sounds are the howling wind, the drumming rain, and the woman screaming at them that they have to get out of there now. But Rocky has eyes and ears only for Calvin. He puts his arms around him, drawing him in and holding him tight. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Calvin finds himself with his head enclosed in Rocky’s gentle, familiar arms, one ear flat against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat so close, so comforting, it almost drowns out the storm. He’s warm in Rocky’s embrace. He’s safe. 

Lightning splits the sky.

 

*

 

Viktor opens the door to find a rain-soaked group of the sorriest-looking people he can imagine, consisting of a grinning Rocky, an anxious Calvin, and, on Rocky’s arm, a woman who looks like a nurse, clinging to him like he’s the only thing holding her up. 

“Viktor!” Rocky says. “You didn’t come down to visit me, so I thought I’d take the initiative.” 

“Should not have come.”

“Now, wait, before you turn us away, might I first propose—”

“Rocky?”

Someone appears at Viktor’s side from within the apartment, half undressed and partially obscured by shadow, but Rocky would recognize the glint of those spectacles anywhere.

“Mordecai.” His smile vanishes. Mordecai is just as stunned as he is.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Um—” 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” His eyes drink in the sight of him, all waterlogged hair and tattered clothes. “Where have you been?” 

“Oh, hither and yon.” Rocky smiles helplessly. For the life of him, he can’t think of a decent lie.

“Why didn’t you contact me?” 

“I would have, see, it’s just...” Rocky’s heart has started to hammer. What on earth was Mordecai doing in Viktor’s apartment, anyway? His stomach twists as he guesses the answer, which hangs like a thick smoke between the two of them. “...we’re not given phone calls at the hospital.” 

“Hospital,” Mordecai repeats.

“Or stamps. Or paper, or...” He trails off as Mordecai abruptly turns his back, disappearing inside without saying anything. It’s just Viktor now.

“Should not have come,” he says again. 

“I just need a place to stow these two—” Rocky indicates Calvin and the woman— “while I make a run into town and collect my savings. We’re gonna be on the first morning train out of town. You’ll never see my face again if you can help us out for just a few hours.”

“Vhat doctor say?” 

“Doctor?” 

“Da. About vithdrawals.” 

“Oh, that. They went away almost as soon as I got there. But it was a pretty nice joint, y’know? Kept a roof over my head for a while.” 

“Look like hell.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

There’s an awkward silence before Viktor grunts and follows Mordecai back inside. But he leaves the door open, and after reassuring them that that’s as close to welcoming as Viktor gets, Rocky is able to usher his wayward companions inside.


	8. Accountable

Mordecai watches Calvin closely. He doesn’t look well. He has his arms around himself and his eyes keep flitting between his cousin, who’s talking to him (something about New York), Mordecai, and the floor. He’s pale, almost grey,  not to mention extremely wet and muddy, as if he’d taken a stroll through the depths of the Mississippi. If he’d somehow drowned in it and come back to life by means of voodoo magic, Mordecai doubts he’d look much worse than he does right now. 

Rocky isn’t much better off, appearance wise. He’s dripping onto Viktor’s rug, completely unaware he’s overstaying his welcome despite having scarcely arrived. But there’s no kicking him out; Mordecai gives Viktor one pointed look to make that perfectly clear. And Viktor doesn’t argue. Which is just gravy. Yes, Mordecai will admit, Rocky broke his heart and disappeared for almost two months without a word, so it was, briefly, a toss-up between shooting him where he stood (his fingers itch for his gun, which is just in the other room, in his jacket pocket)— and slamming the door in his face. Either one of those would have been immensely satisfying if not for the fact that Rocky hasn’t exactly been having an easy time of it, evidently, and Mordecai can’t help but feel guilty and a little sympathetic. And Viktor left the choice up to him, communicating as much through a shrug, so Mordecai concludes it can’t hurt to let them stay, just for a little while.

He manages to get Rocky into a bath after the woman cooks them all a dinner of pancakes, making the most of what Viktor happens to have at hand in the kitchen (eggs, milk, flour, and not much else), much to Rocky’s enthusiasm. Afterward Mordecai finds himself tasked with removing not only what looks like two months’ buildup of dirt and fleas, but also the sticky, buttery syrup all over his... everywhere. His clothes stick together and to Mordecai’s hands when he tries to help him out of them. But despite the hassle (like tending to a child) he succeeds, in the end, to get what he is after— a moment alone to talk, just the two of them. “Where have you been” and “how dare you walk back into my life like nothing ever happened,” among myriad similar questions, seem prudent to ask, but what actually ends up coming out of his mouth and humiliating himself whilst amusing Rocky (doing nothing to quell Mordecai’s still rampant temptation to murder him, made even more enticing at the moment considering he’s in a bath and the clean-up will be minimal) is “who is she?” 

“Who?” Rocky stares at him, smiling, bathwater up to his chin. “Betty? She’s an attendant at St. Mary’s.” 

“St. Mary’s being a mental hospital, specifically, the mental hospital you spent the last two months masquerading as a patient in when your actual goal was...?” He leaves Rocky to finish the sentence because he doesn’t know how to do it himself. Rocky plays with the bubbles, avoiding his gaze. 

“You give me a lot of credit.” Cupping his hands, he scoops a sphere of soft white foam and licks it. “You’ve met me, right?” 

“Perhaps you’ve always been a bit touched in the head, but I know you well enough to be sure you would never put yourself up in a psych ward. You don’t belong there.” He pauses. “And I meant, what is she doing here?”

Rocky closes his eyes, smiling softly, and  whispers into his cupped hands, making the bubbles quiver. _“Des faveurs pour des faveurs.”_

And it takes almost more patience than Mordecai is willing to have, given the circumstances, to pry out of him just what he means by that, but they get there in the end. St. Mary’s is a place wherein one may easily lose oneself, Rocky explains, amid the darkness, filth, overcrowding, food shortages, abuse, misdiagnoses, and electroshock therapy and lobotomies. Having a friend on the inside is invaluable, whether or not she’s willing to work for free, which Betty isn’t, and with little, if any, cash on hand, sexual favors aren’t far enough over the line for Rocky, and that’s what he resorts to. And she’s happy to do business, the way Mordecai understands it, even going so far as to tell Rocky she loves him. But it’s better than the alternative. In the dim, quiet bathroom, Rocky makes that much clear.

“She thinks she might have a reason to stay with me. I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell her to leave. I’m accountable.” 

 

*

 

Calvin is listening on the other side of the door. He casts a glance at Betty, who is attending Viktor as if he is a patient, making him tea and fetching anything he asks for. She’d pinched Calvin’s cheek earlier, smiled and winked at him, but hadn’t said anything. He had the impression she was nice— sweet and a little shy. 

When Betty sees him run and throw up in the sink, she mistakenly diagnoses him with the flu (“from the rain”) and invites him to sleep in the chair, and he’s so exhausted that he doesn’t argue. 


	9. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next chapter might be a little confusing, but I hope it’s not too bad. Rocky is singing “Escapism” by Rebecca Sugar

Mordecai dries Rocky off and wraps him in a scratchy old blanket before shoving him out of the bathroom. Then he washes his clothes, too. He can’t stop himself.

When he’s finished he finds Rocky asleep at the kitchen table, head nestled in his arms. The woman, Betty, is asleep in a similar manner. Calvin is sprawled in the sofa chair, though his clothes are still drenched and he hasn’t bathed. He’s going to catch his death like that. Mordecai sighs. He feels like going to the bedroom, where Viktor is no doubt already asleep, and throwing himself down next to him. Instead he shakes Calvin awake, though not without some difficulty, almost as if he really is half dead. 

“Freckle.”

It’s a good minute before he responds, but soon enough (he’s muddy, but he doesn’t have fleas, at least) Mordecai has him as fresh as a daisy. Only now he won’t stop sneezing. Looks like the rain has gotten to him, after all. 

“Here.” There are no more blankets, so Mordecai wraps him in his own trench coat. It’s a bit difficult for him, but he can’t very well let him freeze to death. 

“Thanks.” Calvin doesn’t meet his gaze. There’s silence between them as the last of the bathwater drips down the drain. 

“Are you going to tell him?” Mordecai finally asks, not needing to explain what he’s referring to; the look on Calvin’s face says he already knows, and the ensuing silence Mordecai interprets as no. “Very well. Go back to sleep. But not in the chair. You got it wet.” 

“There’s nowhere else.” 

“The floor.”

Calvin doesn’t say anything. Mordecai leaves him, finally, to join Viktor in the bedroom. There’s scarcely a sound as he makes himself comfortable, but he doesn’t close his eyes for a while. 

 

*

 

Mordecai’s coat smells like him. Calvin isn’t sure how he feels about it. It’s a nice smell and the coat itself is warm and soft, but if it hadn’t just happened, he never would have believed such a kind gesture could come from Mordecai. It’s disarming.

“Rocky.” Calvin shakes his cousin by the shoulder. “Rocky. Wake up.” 

“Mmm.” 

“When are we leaving?”

There’s no answer. Calvin is too tired to press the matter. He curls up at his feet, and, after a bout of coughing that leaves his head pounding, closes his eyes and does his damnedest to fall asleep.

 

* ~~~~

The kitchen is full of mid-afternoon sunlight, movement, and voices. Calvin’s head is pounding. He tries to stand up, but can’t feel his legs, and, in grabbing blindly for a handhold, ends up with a fistful of the tablecloth. A cup and plate fall. The sound they make when they shatter is fuzzy and distant, like there’s cotton packed into his ears. Someone helps him stand and guides him to the sink, and he feels a cool hand touch his cheeks and temples, wetting them with water. Things clear up a little. Betty is looking at him, holding him steady, eyes questioning if he’s all right. Rocky is speaking to him, grinning. “So after breakfast you and I can head into town, all right, pal? Hey, what’s wrong? Sit down and eat something, you look like—”

The last thing Calvin remembers before he sinks down, unconscious, is watching Rocky’s smile slip from his face.

“—hell.”

 

*

 

With a fever of 106 degrees, Calvin spends the next few days struggling to distinguish between his dreams and reality, something, if his hazy recollection is to be trusted, that used to come naturally. All he can see through blurry vision is what can be seen from a makeshift bed on the floor, under the window: people coming and going from the apartment, arguing, pacing, cooking, kissing, whispering, and arguing again, always arguing. He also sees Ivy once or twice but he’s pretty sure that’s not real. She’s not supposed to know he’s here.

“Looks like you’re temperature’s going down. Pretty soon you’ll be up and about. Good news huh?” She strokes his hair, kisses his forehead. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad you disappeared. And I won’t tell anyone you’re here. Now, can you please take your medicine? Betty says you haven’t been letting her come near you.”

The next thing he remembers is his cousin, Rocky. [He’s plucking his violin and singing](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t5lCzN9W6Vc&start_radio=1&list=RDt5lCzN9W6Vc). Calvin is certain he’s heard that tune before. He hears himself say “what’s wrong with your head” and is aware of his hand reaching out to touch the spot just between Rocky’s eyes, where there’s a chasm he’s certain is big enough to swallow up the earth, though his fingertips don’t feel anything there. Rocky stops playing to look at him curiously. “That ol’ thing?” he says. “That happened months ago.” 

 

*

 

Viktor doesn’t talk to him much. “Gangster is no occupation for child,” he says on one occasion. “Vill end in death. If pneumonia is what kill you, in end, you vill be very lucky.”

Mordecai, on the other hand, doesn’t talk to him at all. 

 

*

 

Crickets are chirping. There are no crickets in St. Louis. Calvin sits on the muddy banks of a stream. He is six. Rocky is eleven. They’re quiet, watching the day turn to dusk, the fireflies come out, and the leaves drift in the current. The sound of gunfire shatters the reverie.

 

* 

 

“I should kill you for showing your face here, but I can see you’re not like your cousin— not beyond reason. You’re smart, aren’t ya, kid? How’s about a little deal? Come closer— I’ll whisper it to you. No, no, don’t be afraid...”

 

*

 

Rocky and Mordecai are arguing.

“I see you didn’t waste any time in finding someone else.” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

“You’re jealous.”

“You’re cruel.”

On and on it goes, just like that, for a while, but only when Rocky is actually present, which he often isn’t. Most of the time it’s just Calvin and Betty. He doesn’t trust her and won’t eat or drink anything she brings him, much to her weary frustration. 

“You’ll never get better if you don’t take your medicine. Why can’t you be more like your cousin? He trusts me. He knows I’d never hurt him.”

 

*

  

Rocky is playing his violin in the park, in the snow, and it is in this manner that Calvin realizes he’s arrived in St. Louis. Upon catching Calvin’s gaze (for the first time in nine years) Rocky has only a smile to offer. But his eyes aren’t blue- they’re gold. And there’s a chasm in his head. It swallows the lyrics, the melody.

  

*

 

Overwhelmed by a thirst as deep as the sea, Calvin sits up for the first time in days— he can tell it’s been days because of the way his body shakes, the simple act of sitting up enough to sap his strength— and rubs his eyes to the sound of voices. They’re low, but they make his ears ring.

“Why? Why did you do it?”

“It was the only thing to be done. For one, you never knew if she was really pregnant, and for another, she couldn’t be trusted alone with Calvin. He’s been through quite enough as it is, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Your cousin made an arrangement with Asa. He’s been selling his body— for money and favors.”

Calvin is suddenly wide awake. The silence of the apartment is deafening. Both Mordecai and Rocky are looking at him. 

“Freckle?” Rocky’s eyes are filled with an emotion Calvin’s never seen in them before, an emotion he can’t stand having directed at him. 

“He’s lying,” he tries to say, but the words come out as barely a whisper; his throat isn’t working and god, his head is killing him.

“I am not,” is Mordecai’s merciless reply, “and in my opinion you should have been candid with your cousin a long time ago.” 

“You knew.” Rocky looks at Mordecai like he’s never seen him before, his voice quiet and numb. “When were you going to tell me?” 

“It wasn’t my place to tell you.” 

“But why didn’t you put an end to it?”

“It wasn’t my affair.”

Rocky hesitates a split second before diving at him, and, just like that, it’s a fistfight, and a vicious one, at that. Calvin screams at them to stop— Rocky is all he has left anymore, and the idea of losing him now is unbearable. But they ignore him, and by the time Viktor appears out of nowhere to intervene, Rocky’s lip and nose are bleeding and Mordecai’s glasses are broken. Insults and death threats fly between them. They look like they’d kill each other if they could.

Despite his best efforts, Calvin blacks out yet again. When he comes back around, Rocky’s kneeling in front of him, smiling that same old smile, the blood on his face smudged as if he’d tried to wipe it away (he had only succeeded in making it worse). “Rise and shine, buttercup. Time to get moving.”

Calvin doesn’t argue, but he can’t stand by himself. Rocky has to help him. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“To the city of dreams,” Rocky says.


	10. False Memory

When Rocky steps away from the ticket booth, he spots Calvin standing in front of a group of musicians. He has his hand outstretched to them with a wad of ten dollar bills. They’re staring at him in astonishment. Rocky runs over and seizes his wrist, pulling him away. “What are you doing?” 

“What?” Calvin looks at him with those big, sweet eyes. “I wanted to give them something.” 

“Not that much. You’re lucky you don’t get mugged flashing all that dough around. Where did you even get it?”

“I just thought they could use it. Isn’t that what you do? Play music?”

Rocky hesitates, then sighs, letting him go. “Fine, fine, whatever.” As Calvin drops the money into the performers’ hat, Rocky tells them, “play something smooth, will ya?”

They do. Rocky pulls Calvin to a spot against the wall where people are sitting and standing around, waiting for the train. Slow jazz echoes through the station as they nestle in and snuggle against each other, too tired to move once they’re comfortable. Calvin’s fever is still lingering, and Rocky hasn’t slept in days. Together they make one sorry sight indeed. 

“I missed you,” Calvin mumbles after a while. “It was quiet without you.” 

“I missed you, too.” 

“Are you okay? I know they hurt you.” 

“They didn’t hurt me.” He’s lying and they both know it. To distract from the fact, he changes the subject. “Is it true? What Mordecai said about you?” Calvin doesn’t answer. Rocky takes that as a yes. “Why would you do something like that?” Still no answer. “Calvin.” 

“I had to.” 

“But why?”  

Calvin buries his face in Rocky’s shoulder, muffling his voice. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just had to, okay?” 

“Was it money? What, do you owe or something?” 

“No.” 

“Then what?” 

“I just needed a favor, that’s all.” 

“What favor?” 

Silence.

“You have to tell me. I can help you. I want to help you. You’re like my little brother. You know that, right?”

“Just forget about it. It’s done with, anyway.”

Rocky sighs. “Once we get to New York, we’re gonna be strictly on the up-and-up. I mean that. From now on, no more gangs, no more killing, and no more...” He falters briefly. “None of that stuff. At least, not for you.”

“Okay.” 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Cold?” 

“My head hurts.” 

Rocky feels his cousin’s head. It’s warm. With nothing to offer in terms of legitimate pharmaceuticals, he kisses his brow and pets him soothingly. “You’re fine. Just close your eyes. We’ll be out of this noisy station soon enough.”

 

*

 

It is often said of Mordecai that he has no emotions, that he’s as stony and ruthless as they come. But Viktor knows that’s not true. He has a delicate heart; the icy ruse is affected in order to keep it safe. He watches Mordecai sitting, slumped over, head in his hands, at the kitchen table. He’s been like that for a while. 

Viktor wonders if, in saying what he’s about to say, he’s only going to make him feel worse. 

“Little one.” Mordecai doesn’t answer. “Things are not so bad vhat you think, little one.” Still no answer. Viktor sighs, turning his head to look out the window. “Vhen pancake boy come back from drugs, he leave something of himself behind. Vas never the same. Vithdrawals alvays are going away, but not for him. Only get vorse.” 

Mordecai frowns, looking at him through cracked lenses. “That was months ago.” Then it clicks. He raises his head slowly. “Wait. You don’t mean...?” 

“Day before you came. He try to kill me— attack me from blind spot.” Viktor touches a scar on his shoulder blade. “Put knife in my back.”

Mordecai is stunned silent, his heart racing as he stares at the scar. He’d seen it every day for over a month now and never even wondered what it was from.

“Vas not safe, keep him around,” Viktor went on. “I brought him to hospital.” 

“It was you.” Mordecai is in a daze. “You’re the one who had him put away.” 

“Da. He does not remember. He tell himself lie— that it vas of his own choice— and make himself forget.” 

“I was right.” Mordecai stands, barely listening anymore. “It was you. What could you possibly have to say for yourself?” 

“Vas for his own good.” 

“You monster!” Mordecai throws himself at Viktor, striking him viciously. “You took him away from me.”

Viktor holds him back by the wrists, growling. “No hit.” 

“Why the hell didn’t you say something earlier?” 

“In hospital, boy vas alvays safe from you. Perhaps you love him, but for you, little devil, to love is to hurt. And I knew you could not hurt vhat you could not find.”

Mordecai feels weak suddenly. “I don’t believe this.” He lowers his head into Viktor’s chest and feels his big, powerful arms encircle him in a gentle, soothing embrace. It’s enough to make him want to cry.

So he does. 


	11. The Cardinals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for what’s about to happen and to preemptively reassure everyone that everything is gonna be fine (...maybe).
> 
> The song Rocky is singing, maybe, unless I change my mind later: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rTR5her74Is

It’s nice inside the train. Rocky feels out of place. And they’re only in the middle-class section. 

“Ever been on one of these before?” he whispers to his cousin. 

“No.” 

They sit down. Rocky goes off on some long-winded shtick about technology being amazing, about how, in the future, not only will cars and trains be capable of traveling fifty times faster, but they will also be able to fly. “Long after we’re both gone, Freckle-lad, a man will be able to make a trip to China and be back in time for lunch. Won’t that be something?” 

“Yes.” 

“If we’re not careful, we’re gonna let these newfangled vehicular-types carry us away one day. We’ll hop inside and take off and just never stop. How could we?” He looks out the window, smiling, his mind somewhere far away. “When we could go anywhere, just like that?”

 

*

 

Mordecai answers the door with a bad feeling that turns out not to be wholly unfounded. It’s Nico and Serafine.

“Evenin,” Nico says, then grins. “Hey. What happen to you glasses, peekon?”

Mordecai narrows his eyes. “How did you find me?” 

“We follow you.” 

Mordecai makes a point of checking the clock. “Yes, well. It was my understanding we had a mutual agreement to maintain our respective distances during off hours.” 

“Boss man say you let us down.” Serafine disregards him. “Sent us to take out de trash.”

They can tell Mordecai is trying to think up some kind of lie and failing. After all, he has a lot to try to explain. He’s been acting strange, lying, keeping secrets, constantly disappearing, and seen associating, every now and again, with old friends of his, people Marigold would consider competitors at best and enemies at worst. There’s no accounting for it, really, at least, not in any way that doesn’t end just like this. Serafine lifts her weapon, aims it at his face. There are other ways they could choose to execute him, if they wanted to be creative, to entertain or be entertained. But, though not a word had been spoken on the subject beforehand, Nico and Serafine both agree, without a doubt, that nothing could be more satisfying than this.

The sound of a single shot being fired echoes through the neighborhood. Viktor bursts from a separate room, and his eye falls immediately on the Savoys, towering over Mordecai’s slack body, but he doesn’t have enough time to process what happened before Serafine shoots him, too. He goes down, then, somehow, to her horror (what is he, fifty? Sixty? A relic, and yet—), gets back up and launches himself forward with a roar like an earthquake. Serafine reloads as fast as she can, but ends up not needing to use it when Nico intercepts Viktor halfway. As they fight like a pair of lions (ugh, boys), Serafine checks her watch. 

“Wrap it up! De fuzz will be here any minute.”

Something breaks over the back of her head, sending her into a temporary daze. She turns around as warm blood trickles down her collar to see (is she hallucinating) a tiny, short-haired little kitten in school clothes, holding the broken remains of a soda bottle. Serafine shakes her head to clear it, sending chips of broken glass cascading from her hair down to her shoulders, and smirks. 

“I know you,” she says. “You de Pepper girl.”

Ivy drops the broken bottle and raises her schoolbooks as if to use them as a weapon. “Stay away from Viktor,” she demands. It’s very funny, Serafine thinks, that such a petite vessel can hold such a hot temper. But she’ll learn soon enough to keep it under wraps. 

When Ivy screams, Viktor freezes, and Nico follows his gaze. Serafine stands in the doorway with Ivy trapped under one arm, holding the gun to her head. “We’re leaving!” she barks. “Now!” 

“No,” Viktor growls, but stays rigidly in place as Serafine cocks the weapon. 

“Stay back or you little princess get her brains shot out.” 

“Viktor!” Ivy fights valiantly, one arm stretched towards him. “Help me!”

But there’s nothing he can do. His vision tunnels, his own warm blood spilling over his hands from the wound in his gut as they take her away. He can hear sirens, but they’re not going to arrive in time. 

Viktor drops the kitchen knife he’d been using and staggers to Mordecai’s side, practically falling next to him, but he’s motionless. 

When the cops arrive, they find them there, just like that.

 

*

 

Calvin sits up suddenly. “We have to go back.”

Rocky doesn’t answer, and Calvin turns his head to see he has his entire torso out of the window, singing at the top of his voice, even as the train travels at eighty miles per hour. Calvin tugs on his clothes and his tail for all of five minutes before he can finally be persuaded to come back inside. “What’s up, doc?” He’s smiling, but Calvin doesn’t smile back. 

“We have to go back.”

Rocky just puts an arm around his neck and ruffles his hair. “Having second thoughts? Don’t worry. They get easier to ignore.” 

Calvin pushes him off. “No. I’m serious. I think this was a mistake.” 

Rocky’s smile fades. “Are you sure?”

“I mean... I think so?” Calvin moans, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know.” 

“I see.” Rocky nods. “Tell you what. Next stop, we can disembark for a bit, stretch our legs, and you can use the telephone. Call your mom, or Ivy, or whoever, and say whatever you need to say.” He rubs Calvin’s back. “But we can’t go back. You wanna know why?”

Calvin looks at him with big round eyes, ready, as always, to believe anything he says. “Why?” 

“Cause I’ve been where you’re at. Leaving home for the first time— it’s scary. But when you’ve got nothing left in a place, you just have to find the strength to move forward, no matter how hard it is.” He smiles. “It was easier for me, ‘cause I was younger than you at the time. Wasn’t so attached. But you’re different— you’ve got St. Louis somewhere deep in your heart, don’t ya?” Calvin nods earnestly. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll learn to root for the Yankees soon enough. And I promise, they’re almost just as good as the Cardinals.” 

“Okay.”


	12. Eyes

The first thing Mordecai realizes when he wakes up is that he can’t see. He blinks and feels something pressing lightly on his eyelashes. Sitting up slowly, he paws numbly at whatever-it-is, and a white sheet falls away from him. His head hurts; he smells blood. When he touches his face, his hands come away red. It’s in his eyes, in his mouth— he can’t see it, but he can taste it, feel it, making his clothes and fur sticky.

There are voices arguing, but they sound far away. He sits there on the floor in the hall, feeling dazed, his vision going in and out, blurry when it’s not black. After a while, he puts his hand on the wall, leaving a gruesome smear, and staggers to his feet. 

In front of him is a door, behind which he can distinguish a light so bright it’s almost blinding. Part of him wants to shrink away, but he forces himself forward, hands outstretched to feel the way. It takes several tries before he reaches it; he can’t tell exactly how far away it is, for some reason, and only when his fingers graze the wood does he realize he’s there. If it had been closed, not even locked, just closed, he probably wouldn’t have been able to get through, but it’s not, and he stumbles out into the street, knocking shoulders with a stranger almost immediately. They catch him, steady him, and ask if he’s okay. Mordecai can’t see their face, but he can tell by the tone in which they speak that they’re not only worried, but a little afraid. “What happened to you?”

Mordecai looks at them, and they shrink away in shock and fear, but he pays them no mind. “Which way is the station?” 

“What? I can’t understand you.” 

“The station. The train station.” Mordecai repeats it as slowly and clearly as he can, but they don’t answer. Impatient, he pulls free and turns away. 

“Hey!” They call after him as he limps away. “Where are you going? We need to get you to a hospital!”

Mordecai doesn’t stop.

 

*

 

Calvin dials the phone. Rocky is standing by the train, waiting for him. When he sees Calvin glance his way, he smiles and waves, and Calvin waves back.

“Little Daisy.” 

“Miss Mitzi? It’s Calvin— Calvin McMurray.” 

“Oh, Calvin.” 

“I’m running away. I’m sorry.” He glances at Rocky again, faltering only briefly. “Rocky’s with me. He’s alive.” 

“He’s alive? Let me talk to him.” 

“You can’t right now. I only have a minute. I just wanted to tell you we’re leaving. Can you put Ivy on the phone?” 

“Oh, Calvin, honey.” To his confusion, she has started to cry.

“What’s wrong?” He frowns as she doesn’t answer, just continues to weep. “Miss M?” 

“Ivy’s not here, honey.” 

Calvin suddenly feels dizzy— like he may be sick again, right there in the booth. He doesn’t know why. “Where is she?” 

“Oh, honey.”

 

*

 

Rocky watches Calvin’s face fall about halfway through the call. He wonders whether it’s his mother on the phone. Then the train whistle cuts the air. He cups his hands around his mouth. “Freckle! Let’s go!” 

Calvin finishes his call and comes running to him, surprising him by seizing his arms. “Something’s wrong. I called Miss M. She says she can’t tell me over the phone, but something’s wrong. I think it’s Marigold. I think... I think they...”

He’s not speaking properly. Rocky cuts him off. “Slow down. What did she tell you, exactly?”

Calvin’s big, brown eyes are pleading with him. “It’s Ivy.”

 

*

 

A child is crying. Mordecai follows the sound. Eventually he comes across a baby’s crib, in the middle of an endless void of darkness, with no one around. As he stands over the crying, forsaken child, it occurrs to him there’s something slightly familiar about it.

Motivated purely by impulse (he cannot abide noisy children, normally) he starts to reach down to pick her up, but someone grabs his hand, stopping him. He looks down, surprised, to see Rose. 

“No,” she says, speaking Hebrew. “Don’t touch her.” 

Mordecai looks into the crib, his hands inches away from the child. “But... it’s Hannuleh.” As he says it, he realizes it’s true. 

“Let her be.” Rose tugs him by the hand. “Come this way instead.” 

“What about her?” 

“It’s okay.”

Mordecai looks over his shoulder as they walk away. “Are you sure?”

Rose doesn’t answer. When Mordecai looks, she’s gone. He looks back at Hannuleh, but she’s gone, too. He finds himself standing in the middle of a crowded train station with no idea how he’d gotten there. His head has been hurting for a while, but the noise, the commotion, makes it so much worse. He sways where he stands. Someone touches him, asks if he’s okay, and though he hates the contact, he doesn’t have the strength to pull away. He wishes he did. More just keep coming. Someone tries to push him to sit down. He resists. 

“Call an ambulance.” 

“How is he alive?” 

“Is anyone here a doctor?”

They’re relentless. He hates them. The only way he can think to escape is by falling to his knees, covering his head, his ears. But they only get louder— shouting for help— screaming.

A few yards away, Calvin leaps off of the train before it’s even stopped moving. He hits the ground running with Rocky close behind him, but he’s not looking at him, and when Rocky slows down, distracted by a crowd of people he has no business being distracted by, he just keeps running. This is the manner in which they’re separated. But, to Rocky, that isn’t important. His heart is thundering as he breaks into a sprint. When he gets there he shoves people aside and kneels next to the injured man in the center of the crowd. “Mordecai.”

Mordecai looks at him. He can’t make out his face, but he knows it’s him. “Rocky.” His fur and clothes are stiff and dark with dried blood. A shiver snakes down Rocky’s spine.

“Your eye.” 

Mordecai’s hand goes subconsciously to his face, and though he’s directly over the decimated socket, it’s like he doesn’t even feel it. “What about my eye?”

“Huh?” 

“What’s wrong with my eye?” 

“Mordecai.” Rocky’s tone is gentle, soothing. “You’re not speaking English.” 

Mordecai frowns, silent for a long while, as if struggling to formulate a reply (which, in itself, is alarming). Then he says, “Rocky?”

His eye closes and he slumps, lifeless, into Rocky’s arms.


	13. Symmetry

It’s a quiet afternoon at the Little Daisy. Rocky and Mordecai sit at a coffee table, playing checkers and drinking tea. 

“I can teach you how to play chess,” Mordecai says, breaking the silence. 

“I like checkers.” 

“It’s a children’s game.” 

“Hmmm.” Rocky stares at the board, thinking, swishing his tail. Then he makes his move, jumping three of Mordecai’s pieces. “King me.” 

“What the hell?” 

Rocky laughs. “That’s why I prefer checkers. I’m better at it.” 

“I suppose it’s because you’re a child at heart. With your foolish games, your pancakes, your constant rhyming, your inherent messiness...”  

“You’re trying to insult me.” Rocky looks up from the board to smile at him. “I don’t mind. I know that’s just how you show affection.” 

“Either way, I think I’m done with this game.” 

“Then let’s do something else.” Rocky shrugs. “We can find somewhere private.” 

“I suppose we could.” 

“Can I ask you something first? Before we go?” Mordecai waits for him to go on. “Why didn’t you take me with you?” 

“Huh? When?” 

“Instead of leaving me with the Savoys, you could have taken me with you.” Rocky avoids his lover’s gaze by staring into his teacup. “Then none of this would have ever happened.”

Mordecai’s head starts to hurt. “I couldn’t.” 

“Really? Not even for my sake? Do you even care about me at all, or am I just another means to an end?” Rocky screws his eyes closed. “No, nevermind. I always knew you could never love me. You’re not that type.” 

“Rocky.” Mordecai tries to intervene, but his head is splitting, and there’s a ringing in his ears that makes it hard to listen to what Rocky’s saying. Then, to his alarm, he feels something wet and warm running from his right eye. Is he crying? 

“And I don’t mind,” Rocky goes on, “really. The problem isn’t that you don’t love me. The problem— I think— is that I love you.” Rocky looks at him, and his smile fades and he sighs. “Oh, damn. You’re bleeding again.”

Mordecai touches his face. The warm wetness he’d mistaken for tears as it poured down his cheeks, soaking his collar, was blood. He tries to say something but his voice doesn’t work. Rocky picks up a napkin and reaches across the table, trying to help him, but he just spreads the mess, getting it on his hands, his sleeves. 

“Anyway,” he sighs. “I was just wondering.” 

“If I took you with me, we both would have died,” Mordecai finally manages. 

Rocky shakes his head, turning to gaze out the window. He doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m protecting you,” Mordecai insists, his voice giving way to frustration. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through for you? I died for you.” 

Rocky looks at him again. Then he smiles just a tiny bit. “Coming from a cold-blooded killer, I guess that’s as good as it gets, huh?”

When Mordecai doesn’t say anything, Rocky leans across the table and kisses him, and if he notices the salty, coppery taste, he doesn’t seem to mind.

 

*

 

Mordecai is standing at the counter, near the display. He has the vague notion that he’s waiting for Rocky, but it’s hard to be certain. Atlas May is beside him, reading a newspaper. 

“I knew I would see you here,” Atlas murmurs as he reads. “Someday. It was inevitable.” 

“What? At the cafe?” Mordecai is confused. Atlas chuckles like he said something funny, and he feels foolish. 

“Shame about your eye.” Atlas changes the subject. “I know how much you love symmetry.” 

Mordecai’s heart sinks, but he doesn’t let it show. “It couldn’t be helped.” 

“Business is rough nowadays, isn’t it?” 

“That’s only to be expected.” He hesitates, then, because he hasn’t felt the words on his tongue in what may as well be centuries, and he wants to see if he remembers them, he adds, “Mr. May.” 

“Always so formal.” Atlas smiles, but doesn’t look up. “But I see you’ve managed to maintain your love life. You have a very kind heart, you know.”

Mordecai is so startled by this statement he doesn’t know what to say at first. He can’t contradict Atlas, not outright, but it’s so obviously untrue it seems a little ridiculous not to. “...I... don’t know many who would agree with you.” 

“I don’t need anyone to agree with me. I know when I’m right.” 

“Mr. May, what am I doing here?” 

“You can leave if you want. There’s the door.” Atlas nods to it. Mordecai hesitates. 

“What about you?” 

“I’m gonna finish my paper.” 

“Oh.” A shiver runs down Mordecai’s spine as Atlas meets his gaze for the first time and winks. 

“See you later.”

 

*

 

“Mordecai.”

He’s lying somewhere comfortable, somewhere clean, under the influence of what he suspects must be morphine. Someone’s holding his hand. He blinks the blurriness out of his vision. It clears up, just a little. He turns his head to see a familiar pair of blue eyes. 

“Mordecai,” Rocky whispers again. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” 

“Rocky?” 

“That’s right.” Rocky keeps his tone soft as he smiles. “The one and only.” 

In that smile is everything Mordecai has been longing for ever since the two of them fell out. He tries to lift his hand to touch Rocky’s face, but his arms are too heavy to move. “Rocky.” 

“Shh. Just relax.” Rocky kisses his brow, then, scooting his chair forwards, leans down to rest his head near Mordecai’s shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”


	14. Scratch

Ivy is running at breakneck speed, shoving through strangers, darting between cars. She skids around a corner and there it is in front of her— Little Daisy. She bursts through the door, making the bell jangle alarmingly. “Miss Mitzi!”

Mitzi stands, her eyes wide. “Oh, Ivy, honey!”

They embrace. Then Ivy pulls back. “Where’s Viktor? Is he okay?” 

“He’s in the garage. They tried to get him in an ambulance, but he, well, he got away.” Mitzi traces Ivy’s face worriedly. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” 

“I’m fine. I gave them the slip.” Ivy breaks loose from Mitzi’s hold, running to the exit. “I’m gonna go check on Viktor!” But the door flies open, startling a yelp out of her, just before she reaches it. It’s Calvin. They stare at each other, panting, for a split second before Ivy throws her arms around him. “Calvin! You’re back!” 

“Ivy.” He holds her close to him, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Are you okay? Miss Mitzi said—” Ivy draws back abruptly and slaps his face, cutting his sentence short. He looks at her in surprise, holding his cheek. “Ow.” 

“You were going to run away?” Her voice is shrill and furious. “To New York City?” 

“I—” 

“Without me?” 

“It was short notice. I’m sorry.” For a second, Calvin thinks she’s going to hit him again, and he flinches. The next thing he knows, she has two handfuls of his coat and her mouth against his. He’s surprised at first. Then he kisses her back.

 

*

 

Viktor has staunched the bleeding with what look like bedsheets from his apartment, pressing them firmly to his wounded side with one hand. He’s not wearing a shirt. Ivy suspects he’d been asleep when the ambush showed up. 

“We need to get a doctor down here,” she says as soon as she sees him.

“Am fine. Just little scratch.” 

Ivy gives Calvin a dark look. “I hate the Savoys.” They’re holding hands. Calvin isn’t looking at her. 

“Me too,” he says. 

“Come here, Dievka.” Viktor holds out a hand. “Let me look at you.” Rolling her eyes, Ivy steps toward him.

“I’m fine.” She laces her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. “I kicked the big one in the shins and stabbed him with a fountain pen.” 

“That is good girl.” 

“What were they doing in your apartment?” 

Viktor’s small smile fades away. “They came for kill Mordecai.” 

“Oh.” Ivy’s smile fades, too. “I’m sorry.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Viktor lifts his eyes toward Calvin. “Vhere is cousin?”

Calvin blinks, startled, and looks around. “Oh. I don’t know.” 

“You mean Rocky?” Ivy asks. “Rocky’s alive?” No one answers her. She scowls. “Hey, quiet people. What’s been going on lately?”

Calvin seems to come to a decision and turns away, mumbling, “I have to go... do something.” 

“Calvin? Wait, but you just got back.” When he doesn’t respond, Ivy lets go of Viktor, following him out into the street. She seizes his hand, stopping him. “Calvin.”

He meets her gaze. “I’m sorry I worried you.” 

She studies him for a moment before smiling wryly. “I wasn’t worried. Just... come back sooner this time. All right?” 

Calvin nods. Then he kisses her. Then he disappears.


	15. End

“So, you want to kill the iceman? Well, golly, I just don’t know. He’s ruthless, that one, and you’re not much more than a kid... I mean, what are ya, sixteen? Seventeen? I just don’t know if my conscience can allow it. ...What’s that? You’re determined, you say? Won’t take no for an answer? Well, I suppose, if you really insist, I can give you a shot. But you’ll have to agree to my terms.”

 

*

 

The speakeasy is about to open for the night. Asa is taking a few minutes beforehand to relax and have a smoke in his office. His secretary appears at the door. 

“Mr. McMurray is here to see you.”

Asa flicks his eyes up. Exhales smoke and waves a hand. “Yeah. Bring him in.” When Calvin enters, Asa shoots him a grin, waiting until his secretary has left before speaking. “Kid. What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be pushing up daisies.” Calvin puts his hat down, but doesn’t say anything. Asa ashes his cigar, reclining in his massive, cozy chair. “Lemme guess. You’re upset.” There’s another silence, and he chuckles. “I guess that’s allowed. Let’s see, what’ve I done recently? I s’pose my guys almost nabbed your little girlfriend back there, but you know what they say— almost doesn’t count. And you clearly survived, so I don’t see what could be troubling you in that regard.” 

Calvin says nothing. 

“Hey, but good news, they killed that little Jewish prick. So I guess, in a sense, you finally got what you wanted. Am I right?” He grins. “Well? Haven’t I earned a kiss?” Nothing. “C’mon, say somethin’, kid. Whassa matter? Cat got your tongue?” 

Calvin says nothing. Asa sighs and stands up, going over to the window. “How’s that cousin of yours?” He pauses. “I mean. He is the main reason for all of this, right? You thought he was dead, so you came looking for revenge, and instead of having you shot, I found the generosity to strike up a little deal with you. I have to say, though, when you tried to cut out early— disappeared— I wasn’t too thrilled.”

He turns to face Calvin, whose expression is unreadable, and sighs. “Look. I’m a nice guy. How bout I cut you some slack? Instead of letting my, ah, my people deal with you, we can put things back to the way they used to be. Now that the jew is dead, we won’t be having any more problems from his end. And like I said, Miss Pepper managed to evade my two guys, so, no harm no foul, right? Tell you what— I’ll even raise your fee.” He takes a puff off his cigar and grins. “You’re gonna want it. ‘Cause you sure as hell won’t be workin’ at Lackadaisy from now on. You’re gonna work exclusively for me. In fact, I doubt you’ll ever want to leave this hotel, or even this floor, for that matter. And why should you? After all, with everything I’ve done for you since we met, your interests should be my interests, and my interests right now are in teaching you a lesson.” He shrugs, almost amicably. “It’s for your own good.”

Calvin still doesn’t say anything, but he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun, holding it slack at his side, more like a warning than an imminent threat. Asa looks at it for a moment, then chuckles. “Please. You’re not going to kill me. You owe me. Not to mention you wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

Calvin is silent. Asa tilts his head slightly. “That’s Wes’s pistol, isn’t it? Yeah. You did mention that you, ah, handled him... and those damn pig farmers, heh, remember them?” Asa sighs, glancing away, as if thinking. “Tell you what. You put the gun down now, you’ll only be in a little bit of trouble. Hell, if you want, I can put that hare-brained cousin of yours under my protection. Keep him safe. Hmm? Would you like that? Or is he dead, too? I’m hazy on the details. Remind me, won’t you?” 

“He’s alive.” 

“Ah. Fantastic.” 

“But I’m still going to kill you.”

They look at each other in silence. Asa isn’t smiling anymore. “You’ll regret it,” he says finally. “You liked me. A little. It’s okay. You can admit it. No one else understands you, do they?” 

“I’m gonna make sure this place burns to the ground,” Calvin says quietly, and to his immense satisfaction, Asa spends his last moments believing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who stuck with me through this whole crazy thing. Your comments are amazing and I love them


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